Sadist Devel
by Ky-chan
Summary: Pyramid Head. Read at your own risk. I'm warning you, this is not for immature people. One shot. Pyramid Head's POV.


They told me once -- they told me so many times, that I, the great judge and executioner, was once a man. A man of death and redemption, but a man none the less. What am I if I am not a man no longer?

I have lost the sensation of time, the sensation of battle lust. I have lost it all in the same moment I came to be as God's will. As God's judgment. God's _executioner. _I am her battle lust, her raging fire, her tranquility in carnage. I am all that she could not bear to be. Thus, she created me.

The God of _Death_.

The God of _Destruction_.

The God of _Desecration_.

This is what I am. Pyramid Head. That is what her followers call me. What _James_, that vile, _loathsome_, murdering man calls me. And I ruined him. I ruined him into an eternal and internal abyss known as _hate_. He came here looking for penance, and he received what a sinner such as he couldn't comprehend. He _deserved_ it. All of it. He's nothing now. Nothing but a quivering mortal in a coil of schizophrenic -- malicious tendencies as he rocks back and forth inside Brookhaven's mental ward.

James. James. _James._ He brought out the worst in me. The violator inside the smoldering, festering womb. A womb of death plague; a disease. I caused his insanity, and I still smile and grin. Deviance is beauty in my world. Hatred is lust. Blood, gore, death is my sexual craze. I still think of Maria. How silky smooth I made her. And only for James' great demise. How I killed her over and over again. My knife plunging through breast bone, stomach, spine, and back. How I happily and cleaned her remains off my knife and resurrected her. Revived her only to do it all over again.

I am a _man_. I have needs. I have wants.

I am a God. I have _needs_. _Wants_. The only difference is, I have the power to take it, where mortals do not. I can have it all. I can _want_ and _need_, and I can _take_. The only downfall, I have noticed, is the helmet. This sign that I will never taste human flesh. Never taste an erect nipple, or kiss a slender neck.

I _feel_ instead. I _feel_ and _touch_ and _take_. Take. Take. _Take. _

I want to taste, to lick, to bite. To rage and moan and scream. To show a facial expression of sexual enlightenment as I cum -- as I take the decaying, mutilated nurses and mannequins. As I shatter them, break them, bend them to _my _will. And I know, and _knew_, that James was watching. Watching in the closet as I fucked that monster.

He wanted it to be himself. He wanted. Want. Want. _Want. _But I take. I take and break and throw it away. He secretly envied me. James. As I stared into the closet. I smiled inside myself. Smiled and laughed heartlessly -- _listlessly_. I had him then. I had him, but I walked away.

He needed to know who the boss was. Who I was before I killed him. He wanted penance, he got it. All of it. He wanted to be me. To feel the _ecstasy_ of what it is to be a murderer, an executioner, and judge.

I still cackle. Still laugh. Grin. I am the ultimate sadist. Ultimate satisfaction in a woman's fantasy. A nightmare come true to those who want it. God said that I was once beautiful. That I was once captivating. Now I am _more_.

I am obscure, grotesque. I am. I am. _I am._

_I am _you. _I am _everyone. _I am _their hate. Their _prayers_. Their _nightmares_. Their _fantasies_. Erection. Thoughts. Catastrophe. I am _everything_. Envy. Lust. Gluttony. Pride. Wrath. Sloth. Greed.

Envy. I _envy_ that I cannot do what you do. _Taste_ what you _taste_. _See _what you _see._ Until I think about how much more excruciating the pleasure of listening to a blistering scream, a death rattle is on my side.

Lust. _Lust_ for everything I can take into my bosom and humiliate, murder, fuck, and torture.

Sloth. _Lazy_ about nothing and everything at all. Slow strides. Slow and calculated and misunderstood until the last minute. Last breath. _Exhale._

Gluttony. I _hunger_ for carnage. I _hunger_ for the smell of blood and sweat. I _hunger_ for the screams of my victims and the way they writhe against me. I take them many times over. I hunger. I _hunger_ and never ease my appetite for _one_, small thing.

Pride. _Pride_ in my work. My job. My God. In myself. I am all. I am this. I am pride.

Wrath. _Anger_. I leave everything dismembered, amputated, and horrifying in my wake. I am all. I am _one._

I am _perfection_.

Disclaimer! Right. I don't own Silent Hill or the characters. I don't own anything. -coughs- But what I wrote this for, well, is because there's hardly any good Silent Hill fanfics. I'm hoping this is one of the good ones. Because, well, for one, I'm tired of Pyramid Head not getting credit or getting hooked up with some chick the author created. Ever hear of Mary Sue? I wanna punch her in the goddamn face. -coughs again- Right. Thanks for reading, blah blah blah. Review if you want.


End file.
